


Clean Slate J dog X deuce Hollywood Undead (Reworked)

by Cyello



Category: 9lives (Band), Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyello/pseuds/Cyello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Re-uploaded due to a number of reasons) Deuce loses his memory in a bad accident. Things get out of hand when his former crew steps back into his life. Secrets are kept and bonds are broken.<br/>J-dog X Deuce / Charlie X Da kurlzz<br/>-ONGOING</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who am I?

    **(2016)**

Another night of thousands of fans screaming in amazement told the six undead musicians it was once again an incredible performance they put on for their loyal listeners.

     Slipping backstage, the exhausted vocalist removed his mask now coated with sweat. As much as Jorel just wanted to wash his face and hit the bunk, the crew still had adoring fans just dying to get an autograph or a picture for their Instagram to show off to their friends. Any other night he would have been stoked but, it was October. Around this month, six years ago, he voted the love of his life out of the band they had worked so hard to create. They say time heals but, the guilt was always there.

    “Oh my god. I’ve been listening to you guys since I was like, 13.” A girl with a backstage pass hanging around her neck gasped. Danny put the cap back on the sharpie after signing his signature name on a poster. “Well without you guys, we wouldn’t be able to make this happen,” the Puerto Rican said casually. The super fan gave Danny a tight hug before scampering off to her group of friends.

“Way to be awkward,” Jordon smirked, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Whatever, it’s been a long night. Hey is it time to pack up yet?"

“Yup.” The other replied, smothering his cancer stick into an ashtray. “It’s beer time."

    

 

    “Ever wonder why every time you ask for more sauce the employees give you this dirty look?” Jordon pondered out loud, digging into his taco bell bag. “I know what you mean, they act like their career is on the line or something,” Matt agreed with his mouth full of food.

   The door to the tour bus opened and in walked George. “Hey where’s mine?"

Jorel would’ve cracked a joke or two, if only he hadn’t been so glued to his phone. For the past hour he had been plopped down on his bunk bed, being anti-social. George seemed to caught on. “Hey buddy.” The other snapped his fingers in front of the Italians face, realizing his abnormal behavior since the show ended. “Hmm?” Was his only response. Jorel didn’t even bother looking up.

Getting slightly irritated, he snatched the phone right out of his hands. “Dude!” Jorel snapped, grabbing the taller man’s arm.

Just one glance at the screen was all he needed to understand his withdrawn behavior. “J, let him go already, it's been what? Months since we heard fr-”

the other singer stopped him right there. “You don’t understand, everything is gone, his Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, Myspace, everything.”

Matt and Jordon looked at each other as the room fell silent.

“Ew, Myspace,” Dylan added, leaving the bathroom. Jorel grabbed his phone from George, not taking his irritated expression off the Mexican for eavesdropping. “Wha-he’s done this how many times?”

Jorel shook his head “Not like this." He knew even at defeat Aron wouldn’t hide himself like this, even if it just was social media.

 “Ok, hold on.” Matt pulled out his own phone and called Aron’s number. The two of them left off on better terms than the other four had, still talking here and there. “ _The number you have dialed is no longer in service, please check the number and dial again_.” Matt bit his lip not knowing what to say.

Jorel let out a sigh.

“Aye J, why are you doing this to yourself? Every year you mope, you’re letting him bring you down, get your shit together,” Dylan scolded.

Everyone else seemed to agree in silence, knowing he was right.

   “He’s not worth it, come on we’ve talked about this.” George gave a pat on his back.

“I…yea, you’re right.” He didn't want to give in. The relationship he had with the ex-band member was always worth fighting for, but it had already been about ten months now since he heard a word from Aron.

“Good, let’s get plastered k’ buddy?”

 

 

        “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” Matt poked Jordon in his sides with his elbow jokingly.

“When you said you wanted to cuddle I didn’t know you meant annoy the living shit out of me,” he groaned, trying to get some shut-eye before their bus hit the next city.

Matt failed to contain his laughter and poked him once more. “Are we…there yet?” He whispered in his ear.

Jordon pushed Matt off his bunk only to be pulled down with him. “Ok, frizz-face, you fucking asked for it.”

“Jordon I was kidding, no, st-“ Matt went into a giggle fit when the larger man tickled him, knowing how sensitive the drummer was.

     Jorel sighed, sitting at the small table across the bunks. Watching the other couple play fight made himself remember how he could easily get on Aron’s nerves on purpose and be in a state of _awe_  at how cute the Russian acted whenever he got pissy. It had been two weeks since he found Aron's accounts gone. Jorel was always going to care and worry for Aron.

         The tour was coming to a close and finding someone was all Jorel could think of. Just someone to fill the gaping hole in his heart. “Looks like we’re there, Matt.” Danny looked out the window as they passed the ‘Welcome to Nashville’ sign.

        Few more hours of being cramped with five other people and  Jorel was the first to hop out of the bus and stretch. “Just a few more weeks,” he told himself. He had some time for himself to get some air and walk around. Just as he was about to take off, Dylan caught up with him “Do you think we have enough time to get high?” Jorel smiled “I’m pretty sure.”

         The duo walked around, hoodies up to keep a low key. “let’s see, Asking Alexandra, Motionless in White, A day to remember.” Jorel named some of the band line-ups one  by one, passing setups and other tour buses. Dylan only nodded, slightly stoned at the moment.

         Jorel paused as some of the roadies were unloading equipment out the back of a truck. One person with a very familiar figure caught his attention. Doing a double take before stopping in his tracks. There, a man with brown eyes and dark blue hair carrying a stack of cords. Curiosity told Jorel to walk closer to get a better look at his face. Dylan turned around to see him walking in the other direction. “J?” Jorel didn’t bother answering. The second the bluenette turned around, letting Jorel see his full facial features, the only thing coming out of his mouth was a gasp.

      It was Aron but, it wasn’t 'Deuce'.

      He was clean shaven, eyes brighter, just everything about him was healthier than the Aron he once knew.

        Jorel lost all control when he was in arm length of Aron. After almost a whole year of absolute zero contact he just lost his shit like a lit firework. Grabbing the shorter man by the shoulders and shoving him against the truck.

      Dylan thought Jorel had just lost his mind. "What the hell?" He hurried over ready to pry the Italian off whoever he was about to beat the living daylights out of.

      “What the fuck!? What the fuck Aron?!” The bluenette dropped his equipment in shock. “Dude what the fuck?!” he cursed back, struggling. “Get off me!” He squirmed, finally able to free himself from Jorel’s iron grip. The expression on his face was more terrified than angry, which in return made Jorel confused since the last time they met a bad fight broke out between them.

 “If we can’t even be friends, why lead me on?!”

     Dylan looked like a deer caught in headlights watching everything unfold. “Aron, is that you?”

Aron looked over at Dylan. “I... I think you guys have the wrong person.” He put his hands up in defense.

“What’s your last name?” Jorel asked, persistent for an explanation.

“Elrichman, why?” he replied, bending down to pick up his cords.

 “Please don’t play dumb, if you hate me after all these years then tell me to fuck off, don’t do this to me, please,” he pleaded.

         Aron didn’t know what to say. He looked at Dylan and then back at Jorel. “Ok, umm," as if he wanted to say something but held it in. “I have work to do, if you want we can talk later. I might know you.” His calm voice told Jorel he was being genuine, as if he really didn’t know who these people were standing before him.

 Jorel wasn’t about to deny this opportunity. “Ok, sure, you know where our bus is?” Jorel asked.

“Hollywood Undead right?” Aron guessed.

Dylan raised an eyebrow “Uhh, no shit Sherlock, wow, you high too?”

Jorel shoved the other off to the side. “Are you ok?” Just wanting to talk to him more.

Aron looked at who he saw as a stranger. “I think, I’ll find your bus after you perform ok?” He repeated and with that he took off in a hurry.

         “What the actual fuck? Dude.” Was all Jorel could repeat on their way back. “That was him right? I mean right? He didn’t know who we were," Dylan questioned, just as baffled.

     “It had to be, I know that face anywhere.” Since Aron was wearing a jacket, they couldn’t see the signature tattoos ‘Deuce’ had. Jorel already knew what was going to be distracting him at the show.

-TBC


	2. You don't know anything about me

_“The end is just a preview 'cus you to me you're a see-through. You're chocking on the ash, unless you can't continue."_ looking out to the crowd once again to see countless faces. Hoping that he would catch a glimpse of one in particular. _"What if I told you that we're already dead? What if I said you can't outrun this spread?”_ The song went on along with the rest of the night.

 

Jorel sat on a crate right outside the tour bus going through a pack of cigarettes like it was nobody's business. He didn't even want to smoke, just something to keep his mind at ease while he waited. He checked his phone, 1:45 AM and still no sign of the roadie.

 "Hey." George sat next to one of his best friends and took a swig from the beer in his hand. "Dylan told me.”

Jorel looked at him. "Told you what?" He played dumb as he made a mental note to jump the Mexican later for opening his mouth.

"You can't control yourself can you?" George continued on.

Jorel rolled his eyes and turned his head to the other side. Might as well let him run the same lecture he already heard at least a dozen times.

"He's probably not going to show up because if it really was him-"

Right in the middle of his rambling, Jorel threw his cigarette to the ground and hopped off the crate the minute the bluenette came into sight. As Aron stepped closer to the bus, the light posts exposed his tatted sleeves, giving Jorel confirmation that this was really Aron.

"No... way," even George was surprised. After months and months without any communication to the undead crew, as well as to his own career appearance it was amazing to see him in the flesh out of the blue.

"Hey, Jorel right?" Aron asked, tucking his hands in his pockets. Before the other could respond, Aron looked over at George. "J3t? oh my god" he took a step forward, recognizing his once best friend. 

_He knows me by my stage name?_

"What happened to you?”

 "Holy shit dude we're best friends." It was a brain rush for Aron. "I mean we were best friends, right? I haven't seen you in forever.”

       George let his mouth drop open. This wasn’t the same Deuce he remembered. His appearance alone was enough to throw him off but, this happy attitude was something else. "You can stop playing now Aron, it's time to stop, you don't have to be a douche 24/7." All thoughts about this being a game came to a screeching halt.

Finally fed up with the confusion, Aron let it all out. "I was hit by a drunk driver January. I was diagnosed with amnesia. If you don't want me around then its whatever. We probably weren't even that close anyway." Aron was thinking about turning back already, seeing how he was being treated like someone who had risen from the dead.

"No, it's not that." It was hard for the Italian to muster up the right words. "We were in love...you and I," he said bluntly.

 

 

        The Russian felt a strong Déjà vu creeping over him when he stepped on the bus. Sitting at the table next to Jorel and across from George made him uncomfortable, not due to the presence of the other two but because a man he no longer knew claimed to have loved him. He was scared shitless of what he might find but desperate to find himself again.

"It was a truck that got you huh?" George broke the ice. "What do you remember?”

 "I already knew I was a part of a band and I know who my sister is, my birthday and the high school I went to. All that basic crap but I can't figure out what festivals I played at or who I played with. When the stitches in my head healed a few friends hooked me up with these jobs and I'm ok but, it's hard finding who I was before.”

George bit the inside of his cheek. "Oh, not a good idea," he said under his breath considering what a train wreck 'Deuce' had become after the years rolled on.

    Jorel pulled up old pictures on his phone of the two of them cuddling, doing cutesy couple things along with other pictures of him and the others dating up to 2008. "See look this one was from a pool party, and here it was Charlie's birthday.”

       "I don't remember you. I'm sorry," shaking his head.

Those words sunk Jorel's heart.

"But you know me." George acknowledged the fact it could still be a dirty trick. How low would he feel later on if it wasn't though?

       George was tempted to tell Aron how much of a primadonna he was before the amnesia and all of the bullshit he put everyone through with lawsuits and diss tracks. He kept everything to a sensitive level for Jorel's sake.

     "I know and...if...you don't wanna talk that's cool I'm not going to force you to remember something you can't." Jorel had accepted defeat at this point. At least he got some closure now.

"Wait." Aron put his hand over Jorel's. "You're a stranger, but we had a past and I wanna know everything...and you're kinda cute," he blushed.

A spark flickered once more in Jorel’s heart. "So, if you don't mind me asking, where do you live?" Jorel asked.

"LA, I have a roommate," he explained.

Jorel became instantly excited."Hey what a coincidence. Can I have your number?"

 "Yea, no problem.”

 George rolled his eyes "here we go again," he muttered.

       Jorel hugged Aron tightly before letting him leave the bus.

"Text me k'?" Aron reminded.

"pfft, of course." Jorel smiled again before watching him hurry off to his own crew. He shut the door and jumped in bliss. "Yes!”

      "You're being played like a god damn piano." George wanted to be happy for his friend, still, he had doubts. He didn't want Jorel to get hurt by the same person twice.

"It's him, you saw the tattoos, the face, and everything." Jorel was too ecstatic to even pay attention to his own conscious.

"No dude wake up; he's playing dumb to find dirt did you forget about all the shit he's done?" George folded his arms.

"What if he is hurt and alone. We knew him. What if that was you?”

  George gave a loud sigh "I don't know," scratching his head. "What if he remembers how we kicked him to the side and he turns on us?”

  "That's why we won't let that happen, no drama, common Jhonny I need your support in this, please," he practically begged.

"Alright, but on one condition, I have to tell everyone what's going on, no secrets.”

Jorel nodded "And we can't let Aron know how we voted him out," Jorel insisted.

"You're pushing it, but it's worth a try.”

 "I owe you one don't I?"

"Big time.”

Jorel was about to let the subject die down before remembering something. "Why did he remember you and not me?”

George shrugged. "No idea man, not a single clue.”

-TBC


	3. I'm Broken

     Jorel clenched onto his phone as he, and along with the rest of the crew stepped into the lobby of the hotel. Matt and Jorel were the first to slip into the elevator after grabbing their room cards whilst dragging bulky luggage behind them.

"Did George tell you yet?" he guessed, pressing the fourth floor button.

    "I'm all for it. I wanna see what the new Aron is like." Matt had more of an optimistic attitude towards the situation.

    "Holy fuck he's so cute. Matt, he got pretty, I can't even.” The elevator door opened with a _ding._  They both looked for their room numbers down the hall.

"Do you have a picture of him?" Matt asked.

   "Unfortunately no, but I got his number. I gotta text him as soon as I put my shit down. I don't know what to say.”

   "Pfft! dude it's been how many days since you saw him? You haven't even texted him?" Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I just don't want to chase him away."

  "Text the poor bastard already," the drummer urged.

 "Ok, ok just let me get into my room, Christ.”

    Aron's eyes opened to the sound of a vibration. He rolled over to see an unsaved number leave him a message. His eyes lit up when he read.

'I need to see you again - J'.

     Aron sat up to responded with, ' _I just got back to LA last night, I'll be right here'_

_'Do you remember Matt?'._

       Jorel set his phone down, having to get ready for the next and final show in the tour.

     Aron thought about it for a second. 'Matt who? It sounds familiar'. He thought about it for a minute before zoning out.

**___(2007)___**

     "Yo, kurly you got a dick caught in your throat or something?" Aron couldn’t help but make fun at Matt’s scratchy voice.

 "It's called a sore throat, you whore. I'd like to see you try to scream like I can.” Matt used one of his drum sticks to jab him in the side.

     Both undead soldiers stood on the roof of their recording studio, leaning over the edge. The air was chilly and the sky was thick with grey clouds.

  "How do you feel?” Matt asked.

    Aron looked at the blue and pink mask he held in his hands. "Uh, I’m freezing?”

   "No stupid, our first released album. How do you feel about it?" he repeated.

"It's only the beginning so nothing really.”

* * *

    Suddenly reality became real again. "Fuck, again?" he cursed. 

      It was happening again. The flashbacks came foward with rushes of memory that surfaced along with it. Every time he remembered something significant a huge wave threw him into a realistic trance of the past. Good news, he was able to grasp the precious moments that were wiped clean since the accident. On the down side his anxiety took over and left him with a panick attack. His phone told him he had only been in a trance for fifteen minutes this time. Sometimes the flashbacks took up an hour. Aron swiped the screen on his phone to see a new text.

'Matthew St. Claire or kurly fry'.

 Taking a deep breath, he replied, 'I remember him now, he did drums and screams'.

Once again he felt downright dumb. It was like trying to remember someone's name from high school. Aron reached over for the bottle of Prozac sitting on the night stand, popping a few pills, ready to fall into another sleep.

-TBC


	4. This is how you remind me

          

      “You can’t tell me that guy wasn’t this close to jumpin on stage,” Danny recalled from earlier at their show.

      “I thought he was going to break his ass.” Jordon brought an arm around Matt bringing him closer.

     “I wanted to see that happen,” Matt added, snuggling himself against Jordon.

      The after party was going pretty well. Plenty of people came to talk to the crew and everyone had a feel good vibe. Even Jorel was able to get his mind off a certain situation.

    That only lasted until once again Dylan opened his big mouth. “So you still talking to him?”

    Jorel gave him an annoyed look that read ‘ _I don't wanna start with that shit right now_ ’.

      “What’d he say?” Matt overheard and looked over.

    “So far he only remembered you and George,” Jorel shrugged.

      George was the next one to ask a question. “Does he still think I’m fat?”

      “Hold up, he doesn’t remember Charlie fucking scene?” Jordon tossed an empty bottle across the room missing the trashcan.

 “Chill he’s not the same ok? I just started talking to him like, ten hours ago.” Jorel put his hands up not wanting to hear another question.

“Tell him he used to do drag,” Dylan suggested. Everyone seemed to think it was funny.

 “Shut up.” Even Jorel couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

 

**____(2009)____**

       The lights and the sounds of the Summer sonic festival was all he wanted to live for at the moment. He could die happily right now as a matter of fact. The adrenaline became his drug.

        _“You better get up out the way, tomorrow we’ll rise so we’ll fight today."_

         Aron looked to see Funny man hop off stage to run through the crowd of fans who were all trying to grab a piece of him.

      _“You know I don’t give a fuck about what you think or say, cus we are gonna rock this whole place anyways!”_

_"Undea!-"_

* * *

 

       Aron woke up with a yawn, this was the first time he didn’t feel so anxious or paranoid. He couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a flashback but it felt great nonetheless. It was like he was on top of the world.

_Wait._

      That guy wearing the dark mask, running through the applauding crowd was the same person who was with Jorel weeks ago. It was his slight curled hair and large frame that jogged his memory.

     Aron looked at his phone, 2 p.m. He slept in late again. Oh well, he didn’t have to work again for a couple more days.

_A missed text?_

_‘Yea that’s him’_

      A photo was sent as well. It was of him and Matt wearing old masks from back in the day. The memories were coming all together now; it was the same mask that Matt wore in the flash back days ago. He replied to the text with the question he had been asking himself for days.

_‘Why did I stop doing shows with the gang?’_

      Jorel read the message right before they went through security check at the airport. “Aw fuck”. There was two clear options. Either A, tell him what happened and everything goes back to normal plus added fights, or B, he could make little white lies and hope for the best.

  _‘Things fell apart; I’d rather tell you later ok? I’m heading back right now’._

   Great, now Aron would have to play the guessing game by himself for a while. He didn’t entirely trust Jorel, or Matt, or whoever else he once knew but he couldn’t keep wondering forever. He felt lucky in a way, he still held onto his experience with music,  working at a audio recording studio. His two good friend that he still remembered, Yuma and Gadget were going to help him break back into the music industry. Although he was grateful he hadn’t lost his gift and his good friends, he was still grieving over not being able to know how to sing like ‘ _Deuce_ ’ anymore.

A few more days went by. The two held light conversations back and forth, nothing heavy.

Just as Aron was caught in the middle of work his phone vibrated.

‘ _I just got home_ ’ Jorel messaged him.

     ‘ _Awesome you need to tell me how everything went_ ’. Infatuation fluttered his heart. Aron was actually looking forward to getting to know and maybe even dating this guy, if there was a chance.

    Aron couldn’t help but get his hopes up with the next text he received. ‘ _When do you have time off?’._

 

 

 

    “George was right you are a pussy” Dylan slammed opened their apartment door, hitting the back of the wall. It was him and Jorel for the time being.

“You aren’t feeling what I am”. The Italian dropped his luggage down before he gently placed down a cat carrier. He still had his old cat, Tiger which he picked up from boarding at the vet.

 “I don’t have to when you’re setting yourself up. When you cry and bitch when it doesn’t work out I don’t wanna hear it."

    Jorel opened the carrier and out walked the elderly tabby cat. “Awe did you miss me?” he cooed.

    “What do you even see in him?” Dylan pressed, flopping down on the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table exhausted.

“Why do you even care?” Jorel asked picking up his cat.

      “You won’t shut up its always ‘Aron this’ or ‘Aron that’ I would love to have had some of my exs forget about me”.

     Jorel put Tiger down when he started to squirm in his arms. “Why can’t you be like Matt and just be happy for me?”

    “Happy for you? You aren’t even dating him,” Dylan reasoned.

    Jorel took out his phone and called Aron, putting it on speaker just to make a point.

    Aron was just getting out his apartment key when he heard his phone ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and answered it “J? hey you,” he answered unlocking his door.

“Hey, how you been?” Jorel sounded really happy just to hear his voice.

“Same shit different, toilet you know” he answered.

   “Haha yea, hey I was thinking, if you wanted to grab a coffee and catch up?” asking nervously.

     “I thought you’d never ask, you still didn’t answer my question though.” Aron was determined to find out why he was no longer an Undead solider even before the accident.

“What question?” Jorel blinked.

“Never mind” Aron let it go for now. “How about Wednesday?” he suggested.

     “Sounds good, I’ll pick you up.” Jorel already knew what he was going to ask. He hadn’t decided what option to use just yet.

“’K I’ll text you my address, can’t wait.”

“Alright, see you then beautiful,” and with that the call ended.

 _That was close_.

    “He’s going to slit your throat when you tell him.” Dylan reached for the remote.

    “He’s not going to find out, he can’t just, no.” He ran his hand through his hair in stress. “And you’re not going to tell him”.

 “You think I’m out to get you? Like I said, I don’t give a shit.”

      Jorel picked up his bags that still lay on the floor and headed to his room. “You sure act like it.” a loud door slam could be heard after.

      Dylan flipped through the channels, looking for something mind-numbing. Truth be told he was never angry that Aron was coming back into their lives. It was fear of what he might remember from the past, their past.

 -TBC


	5. No.5

**(2007)**

           “So, I’m not saying a neon color, but I donno.” Aron was in the dressing room looking at himself in the mirror, playing with his flat iron.

   “Dude, you’re not Jeffery star don’t bleach your brain,” Matt strongly advised, straightening his own hair.

“Yea ok, but I look like every other emo pretty boy. Do I wanna go scene?”

      Jorel was at the other side of the room, digging in his bag for something. “Anyone seen my guitar pics?”

 Aron pulled the cord to his flat iron out of the outlet. “Probably in your car.” He suddenly winced at a pain before grabbing at his wrist.

   Jorel looked over “babe?” He stopped looking for his pic and went over to his boyfriend.

_He did it again didn't he?_

 “I’m fine I just burned myself,” he lied.

 “You’re wearing a jacket,” Jorel pointed out. He had a feeling they were going to have another episode.

 “It can still burn through fabric.” Aron's eye contact challenged the 23-year-old.

 Jorel could just tell by looking into those brown eyes that it was a bad lie. “Mattie can you give us a moment?” Jorel asked the drummer.

“I’m not done with my hair,” the other whined.

“This is fucking serious!” Matt jumped at Jorel's sudden frustration. “Fine, shit dude” he grabbed his jacket with the words ‘ _MOSH_ ’ printed on it before leaving.

 Now it was just the two of them in the dressing room.

 “What are you looking at me for? I’m not a fucking kid I just burned myself!” Aron snapped, clearly upset at something.

 “Pull up your sleeves.” Jorel was losing his cool.

 “Umm, what?” Aron stood up and raised an eyebrow giving sass, not liking being told what to do.

 “Take off your god damn jacket and roll up your sleeves, Aron!” Jorel backed Aron up to a corner.

 “I’ll take my jacket off but you need to back the fuck up,” he warned.

 Jorel took a deep breath and took three steps back.

     The smaller man pulled up his jacket over his head, pulling it off before he held up both of his arms. There was a painful reason he was wearing long sleeves. Aron looked away, not wanting to see the other’s reaction.

      “What did you do?” Jorel took his right arm and rolled up the sleeve. “Aron!” Jorel didn’t expect to see this deep of a cut not even a full day fresh. “Why would you do this? You stopped for so long and now, oh my god” Jorel grabbed his bag in a rush and pulled out a small bottle of peroxide for exactly this reason. Aron didn’t dare to look up at his boyfriend even as he cleaned the wounds. “You’re going to get another skin infection if you keep this shit up.”

 “Obviously,” Aron mumbled as Jorel used a paper towel to dab the liquid over the cuts.

After addressing the wounds, Jorel tilted Aron’s chin up, making eye contact. “Hey, why don’t you ever tell me what’s getting to you?”

  Aron’s eyes were glassy at this point. “I don’t know,” his voice barely audible. “I don’t want people to think I need help or think I’m weak.” Aron was struggling not let out any tears.

    “Hey, baby boy, you’re not weak," Jorel used his soft voice. "When we get out there and rock the stage, I look at you and think you’re one of the strongest son of a bitches I’ve ever seen. I want to hear your problems. You know I love you.”

    Aron couldn’t hold back, he buried his face into Jorel’s jacket, letting out a muffled sob which lasted a good three minutes. “I don’t deserve you,” Aron sniffled, gaining his composure.

“Don’t say that I need you in my world,” Jorel said, wiping a tear away.

 “I’m a mess.” Aron seemed to calm back down at this point.

“But you’re my hot mess, and I’m sorry for yelling like that.”

 Aron got closer to Jorel’s face and closed in for a soft kiss that turned intimate. Jorel ran his hands through Aron’s hair. “And please, don’t bleach your hair,” he smiled.

“You guys done fucking in there?” Matt knocked on the door.

“Haha, should we let him in?” Aron asked.

“Probably,” Jorel admitted, giving another kiss.

-TBC


	6. Bewitched

        He would find sleep easier if his brain would just shut up. The last flashback really messed with his head. Every time he thought about it, he would turn his wrist over and study the awful scar on his arm. It was solid proof these events actually existed. Every time it happened, it was like watching a movie about his own life. Aron tried to not take the flashbacks too seriously after all, they were in the past but after the last one, he took everything into consideration.

       Rolling over, he looked at the time, 12:49 AM, Wednesday. Damn, the days flew by quick. Not being able to sleep, bored as well. He decided to google his name again. It was confusing how there were so many people talking about where ‘Deuce’ went. It was either ‘he was kicked out’ or ‘he just left’ and then there was a cruel portion of hard core Hollywood Undead fans saying he was dying from drug abuse somewhere. It was awful enough to wake up one day and find so many people hate him. What was even worse were the people trying to get into contact with him, with that being said he made a decision to close off everything from Twitter to his Facebook since he couldn’t differentiate fans from people he personally knew anymore.

Scrolling through some videos, he came across one titled ‘Story of a bitch’. He clicked on the link to find a lyric video.

_Here’s the story of a bitch,_

_That we loved so many years._

_You little crying faggot bitch._

_Fuck your bullshit Deuce we’re sick of it._

That was enough for the night. Just another piece of evidence of how much he was hated.

What did he do in his past to deserve this?

  His eyes opened at 11:30 AM, “shit”. He forgot to set his alarm. Rolling out of bed he went for the bathroom and gelled his hair in a messy fashion after throwing on a black jacket and a pair of skinny jeans.

  “G! Have you seen my belt!?” he asked, calling to his friend at the other side of the apartment.

   He slipped on his converse high tops and went to check himself in the mirror. it was hard to believe he used to look so grungy before the accident.

“Maybe if you picked your shit up you would find it!” Gadget answered from the other end of the apartment.

“I was just asking, Christ”. Aron kept looking.

“I’m just sayin. Where are you going anyways?” the other asked, poking his head in the bathroom. “A date,” he answered.

 “Who is she?” Gadget asked, being nosy as usual. He became protective of Aron since he had bonded with him so much after working with him to get a full grasp of his music again. He didn’t trust a guy dating Aron especially since he lost his aggressive touch, thinking it would be easier for someone to get in his pants. “He,” Aron corrected. “And drop that shit you’re not my parent,” he warned.

 “I just care.”

“Stop caring before you smother me.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

Before Aron could even move, Gadget hurried to answer it “I got it”.

He opened the door to see Jorel standing before him. “Hey dog! J-dog. What’s good?” He didn’t think Aron could even think of dating his ex again.

‘Oh god, it’s this goofy bastard,’ Jorel thought. “Hey is Aron home?”

“Yea, he’s going out with some lame-ass dude today.”

Jorel was about to make a remark when Aron got to the door.

“Hey handsome,” Aron smiled at seeing the Italian.

“Woah, woah. Let me get this straight. You, and this guy?” Gadget felt jealousy bite him in the ass.

“Yea, I’m that ‘lame-ass dude’,” Jorel informed, Attitude in his voice.

      Gadget wasn’t gay but, Aron was the one exception. It was no secret that he liked Aron either. Before 9lives disbanded, everyone noticed how he would go out of his way to give Aron all of his attention. Not to mention all the dumb pet names he would call the lead singer. Truth be told the only reason Gadget decided against telling Aron the whole story about him getting booted out of HU was, fear he might have another breakdown and pick up on his drug habit again. 

        “Fine, whatever, just be careful,” Gadget sighed.

“Thanks, dad,” Aron said with a strong amount of sarcasm.

 

 

     “I wanted to smack so many people on that tour I felt like I was the only one actually pulling their weight,” Aron complained before taking a sip of his coffee.

 Jorel leaned back in his chair at the Starbucks they were catching up at. “Yea that sounds like you alright.”

 Aron raised an eyebrow. “Am I really that bitchy?” Aron wondered out loud.

“I call it being headstrong.” Jorel stirred his cappuccino.

 “so in other words, yes. I made the mistake of looking up my name. I’m like some kind of supervillain.” Aron was getting a feeling of his old character, and he didn’t like who it was.

 “Rule number one of being famous, never google up your name. It’s unhealthy."

 “How else am I supposed to find who I am? I want to just get back into step.”

 “I like the new you though, you’re like fresh air.”

“that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever fucking heard. What else don’t I know that we had going on?”

 Jorel thought for a moment. “Well, we were married and adopted a few kids.”

 Aron’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

 Jorel let out a laugh “I’m kidding.”

Aron slapped him on the arm for that. “Asshole.”

 “Sometimes. Hey wanna go back to my place?”

 “J, I’m not sure.” Aron stood his ground with his trust issue.

 Jorel put his hand over Aron’s and intertwined their fingers. “I’m not going to pull anything; I promise”.

Aron’s heart skipped a beat. This reminded him of the last flashback.  Jorel made a big deal about his wellbeing and how much he seemed to care when he opened himself a fresh wound. “Let’s get going then”.

 Jorel opened the door to his apartment letting Aron walk in first. He was glad there was no sign of Dylan anywhere.

“Sweet pad.” Aron looked around the room when a vinyl album caught his attention.

 The swan songs album hung proudly on the wall. The cover on the record showcased the band members lined up with city buildings in the background. The first member Aron knew was Matt’s by looking at the mask. He couldn’t quite remember Jordon. His eyes wondered over to Johnny and then his own.

“That’s me.”

 “Yea, that’s you, front man,” pride in his voice.

  “It ‘was’ me.” Aron turned around to face Jorel. “You need to tell me what happened.” It was clear Aron was getting agitated in the wait for the answer.

“You were hit by a truck; you don’t remember that?” Jorel rubbed Aron’s shoulders only to be pushed away.

 “You know that’s not what I mean. Why does my Wikipedia say I was done with you guys a long time ago?”

  Jorel had to make up his mind quick. Option ‘A’ or ‘B’.

 Aron waited “well?” his eyes narrowed in anger.

 He didn’t want to use option ‘A’ and tell him the truth but, it was the least he could do for the pissy bluenette standing before him. Jorel sat down on the counter bar stool and looked down. “Aron…I’m going to tell you the truth. Whatever happens I need you to promise me that you won’t kill me. I will always care about you and I still need you in my life.” Jorel looked back up to see Aron staring off into space, mouth slightly parted.

“Aron?” Jorel got up and waved his hand in front of the other’s face only to not get a reaction.

 “Aron!”

**___(2006)___**

   “Aron, tell that one joke again.” Jorel didn’t take his eyes off the road. One hand on the wheel, the other holding his boyfriend’s hand.

 Jordon and Matt were riding in the back. It was a double date to the county fair and it took a lot of nagging to get Matt to come along just so Jordon wouldn’t feel like the third wheel.

 “So.” Aron was already starting to laugh a little. “What’s the difference between a pile of babies and a trampoline?”

 “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this one before.” Matt brushed his hair out of his face.

 “I take my shoes off when I jump on the trampoline.” Everyone was cracking up except for Matt.

 “Oh come on it was funny” Jordon nudged Matt.

 “Not really” Matt sounded unimpressed before taking out his sidekick.

 Jordon got bored and leaned over to see who he was texting.

“Can you like not?”

 Jordon turned to looked out the window. “Bitch.”

 

 

 

 “How much would it cost to sue this place? I think my neck is broken.” Jordon complained one hand on the back of his neck. He and Matt headed towards the exit of one of the roller coaster attractions.

 “You’d be dead if your neck actually broke, F.Y.I.” Matt looked around for the couple they came with.

“Hey there you guys are!” Jordon waved to Aron and Jorel.

 Aron was hugging onto a giant teddy bear Jorel had won for him at a dart game.

 “That bear is almost as big as you are” Matt said in awe.

“Did you go on any rides?” Jordon asked, now ignoring the pain in his neck.

 “Nah wiz kid gets scared.” Jorel smirked.

“I don’t get scared I get lightheaded” Aron defended.

 “You mean scared?” Jorel pressed.

 “Fuck you,” Aron cursed.

 “Maybe later,” Jorel teased giving him a quick kiss.

 “Let’s hit the drop tower, don’t be a pussy.” Jordon pressured Matt.

 “For the last fucking time I hate going on the rides you pick. You’re fucking obnoxious.”

Jordon had enough of his date’s shit and how much of a whiny bitch he had been all night.

 “Well, all the rides you wanna go on are kitty rides. What are you like 12?”

 “You know what? I think I’m gonna wait in the car. J, the keys?”

 Jorel dug into his pocket and tossed his car keys to Matt.

 “While you’re waiting you should really change your tampon.” Jordon didn’t want to believe he would just give up on the date like this. He really did like Matt but, it was obvious it just wasn’t going to work out.

 “Take your time,” Matt said to the couple, ignoring Jordon before heading towards the exit and into the parking lot.

 “He always wants to hang out and shit, all interested and then he acts like he doesn’t want me around he’s hot then cold.”

 “He’s playing hard to get and he’s doing a good job.” Aron explained.

 “If he wants me and he knows I want him why would he play hard to get?”

 “You don’t get it you need to prove you’re worth his time,” Jorel put in.

“He’s fuckin with me, I knew it. I’m gonna talk to him.”

 “Good luck. We’ll be right behind in a few.” Jorel said.

           

 

 The view became more aesthetically pleasing as the ferris wheel lifted them higher and higher. It was pretty silent between the two of them now.

  Jorel took off his jacket and put it around the other’s shoulders when he noticed the air growing colder.

 “Why so quiet?” Aron spoke up. Putting his arms through the jacket arm holes, one size too big on him.

 “I’ve had something on my mind for a while,” the Italian confessed.

 Aron sighed. “You’re either going to break up or marry me,” he assumed.

 “No, I’m not, I mean I’m not breaking up with you anyways.” He shifted nervously in his seat.

 “Then?” Aron hugged the teddy bear tightly.

 Jorel bit his lip. “We’ve been dating for a year right?”

 Aron nodded. “A year and... two months?”

 “I think I…” Jorel interrupted himself to kiss his lips.

 “You think what?” Aron felt his heart pounding, not sure what to expect. Then like a lightning bolt, it hit him.

“I think I love you.”

 

-TBC


	7. Sorry not sorry

“How long has he been out for?”

 Aron blinked his eyes open to see Jordon taking his pulse.

“Yo, he’s waking up.”

Aron slowly sat himself to find Jordon, Matt, and George, all of them looking down at him.

“You scared the shit out of us.” George relaxed, knowing Aron wasn’t going to die right in front of him.

Jorel ran back into the room, phone in hand ready to call 911 until he saw Aron conscious. “Are you ok?” he worried, helping him up.

 “Yea, it happened again.” Aron took a deep breath. Everything in the room spinning.

 “You stroke out?” Matt asked.

 “Nah,” he gained his composure. The only ones who knew about it were his doctors, Arina, Yuma, and Gadget. “Just low blood pressure,” he lied.

 “Bullshit, you were like a zombie before you wiped out,” Jorel argued.

“I think he finally snapped,” Matt whispered.

 “Can I ask you something?”  Aron looked at Matt, hearing his comment.

“Not until you answer ours, we need to know you aren’t losing your shit.”

 Aron started to cave in “I have Retrograde amnesia; I can’t remember a lot of things before the beginning of this year”. Aron took a seat on the sofa when he felt lightheaded.

 “Yea, we know that, what’s with you blacking out? You were out like a light, man.” Jordan took a seat next to him.

Feeling cornered, Aron looked at him and then the door, thinking how fast he could leave.

 “Don’t even think about it.” George stepped in, folding his, needing to know the full story.

Jorel sat on the other side of Aron, putting a hand on his thigh. “If you want to know who you were, we can help you. Keeping us in the dark isn’t going to help. We aren’t going to say anything, are we?” He turned to the rest of the crew making it crystal clear this was to be kept a secret.

“Why are all of you here anyways?” Aron asked, fearful this was a set-up.

 “It was J’s idea; he cares about you enough to arrange this get-together.” George wanted to imply this so Aron would think twice about hurting him again if they ever got back together.

 “It was supposed to be a surprise,” the Italian said, disappointed.

   “After the amnesia I would just see things, memories I had, flashbacks about things I did or people I talked to,” he begun to explain “I can’t control it and when I have a flashback I black out. I get headaches.”

 “What was the last one about? The one you just had?” Jorel asked.

 Aron thought about the flashback. “We were like way younger, me, you, Matt, and…” He looked over to Jordon. “You”.

 Jordon raised an eyebrow. “I was in it?”

Aron paused, thinking about the events in the flashback over again. “It was a carnival or something you and Matt never got along.” Aron didn’t know if it was a good idea to talk about him and Jorel to the others.

“That’s it?” Dylan asked from the kitchen, eaves dropping.

“You were here this whole time?” George called to the Mexican.

“Chill, I just woke up”.

“Ok, go on.” Jordon wanted to know impatiently.

 “Matt had enough of your shit because of a roller coaster and went to wait in the car. Something about a dead baby joke.” he looked at Jorel, giving him the notion that he wanted to tell him the rest in private.

“Oh fuck, I remember. That was ten years ago” Matt was impressed. “You knocked on my door the next day shit-faced and apologized,” he recalled, looking at Jordon.

“Did I do that?” Jordon smirked.

 “Did you guys ever get together?” Aron asked.

 “Eight years strong” Jordon answered.

 “I made you chase me for two years?” This caused the drummer to have a nostalgic moment.

“Oh yea, you ran me into the ground.”

 “I have more things I remember, if you wanna hear,” Aron offered.

 Dylan was in the other room listening, hoping to god he hadn’t remembered a specific memory.

 

  A good two hours went by.

 It was just the two of them now, laying on Jorel’s bed.

“Did you mean what you said when you told me you loved me?” he asked, holding up his wrist where the nasty nine-year-old scar long ago healed.

“I meant every word.” He grabbed his wrist and ran his thumb over the scar.

 “You were so scared to tell me.” Aron recalled.

“I was shaking. I thought you were going to run from me.”

 Aron rolled over to his side, his face inches from Jorel’s. “when did I say I loved you?”

 “geez, you didn’t say the ‘L’ word for a long time actually.”

While they talked the question hit Aron “what happened to me J?”

 Jorel didn’t want to lose him again, not after the memory of when he opened his heart to Aron came back to haunt him.

“You wanted to go solo, and it was tough on us. We got really mad that you left us and there was so much drama between us. You just wanted nothing to do with me,” he lied, not thinking.

 A devastated look crossed the other’s face. “I did that? Oh my god I’m sorry,” he couldn’t imagine himself doing anything of the sort.

“Hey, shh. It was a long time ago.” Jorel wrapped his arms around the smaller male and snuggled him into his chest.

“Will everyone forgive me?” Aron asked, looking up at the man.

“Without a doubt.”

“Do you forgive me?”

Guilt was making it difficult for Jorel. But what was done, was done. He got what he wanted.

“Of course I do.”

-TBC

 

                      


	8. Rocketship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note.
> 
> So my homedog ( Daguppz ) Told me more about Gadget/ Tony. He used to rap with Deuce before 9lives disbanded and with that being said I learned that he’s actually a pretty underappreciated character/ rapper. He made this one music video and omg just watch his hand movements!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF3sz0m2BNg

    

     A nice 65-degree weather wafted over the city of LA in the late days of October. Yet here Aron was stuck indoors recording in Gadget’s stuffy home studio.

_“Will I be lost? Kneel before the unknown there might be a place in a hearse we can go. It’s been a while since we learned to come home. Nothing can stop us know that we know.”_

   Aron stopped when he finished his verse. Looking through the plexiglass in the sound booth waiting for his friend’s critique.

 Gadget looked at him through the other side. He pressed the speaker button on his soundboard “Better. A little forced at the end but you’re getting better, that should be it for today.”

Aron removed the microphone from around his head and placed it over the music stand. “Holy shit it’s hot as balls in there,” he complained, closing the booth door behind him.

 “It’s not that bad princess,” the other reassured, standing up after he switched the power off the soundboard. “I’m thinking about getting us chipotle tonight, sound good?” He offered changing the subject.

 Aron wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm after leaving the poorly ventilated room for so long “are you trying to get me fat?”

 “Is that even possible? You’re always going to be my skinny little twig”.

_I’m sorry when did I belong to you?_

 Ever since Aron got back into contact with his ex he started to notice a new side of the artist. Every moment of free time Aron had for himself outside his music was constantly being taken away by this man. Not to mention the pet names he was being called like ‘pretty boy’ or ‘wuvie’.

“Just a head’s up I’m heading out with the gang tomorrow.”

 “You need to focus. This right here is more important.” He informed as a matter-of-fact, grabbing a handful of papers filled with recording options.

“Are you telling me what to do? You’re not my manager.”

“What’s so important about running around with these sell-outs?”

“Tony, stop insulting them all the time. Just shut up.”

He knew that whenever Aron used his real name, it meant business.

“Look,” Aron began, sitting himself down in the swivel chair. “Unless I’m by your side you’re always up my ass about something. What the hell gives?”

Tony shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I know you.” For some reason after the accident Aron still remembered Tony 100%. He didn’t have any flashbacks involving him yet. Being said this gave Aron the upper hand.

 “Baby boy, let’s just get something to eat and we can talk later.”

“See! That’s what I mean. You constantly try to baby me and you won’t leave me alone, and the stupid nicknames.” Aron stood up, ready to jump his ass in the argument.

“Oh, because I care so much it means somethings wrong, right?”

“No, don’t do that. You’re keeping me away from my friends and myself.” He tried to meet the other’s eyes.

 “I don’t even know what you’re getting at, ok? You’re overacting.”

Aron knew what this was coming down to. He had to admit to himself it was partially his fault in this to. In the two years he spent with the artist, He had clung himself to Tony. Aron couldn’t remember the whole story but Tony had help him to cut the drug abuse multiple times. He would always come crying to him. There was some sort of emotional attachment that grew stronger without any acknowledgement.

“You’re upset with me, aren’t you?” Aron calmed down after seeing things from his perspective.

“No, I’m not. Can you just let it go? I’m sorry.”

“Fine.” Aron knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with him so he let the subject drop. “Still wanna grab a bite?”

“Duh, let’s go care-bear.” Tony’s mood lit up as fast as a light switch.

“Call me that again, and I’ll rip your nuts off in your sleep.” Aron warned.

 

             “That wasn’t a scratch, J.” Danny held a pool stick in his hand, trying to not get his ass kicked in a game of pool.

“If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen Danny-boy,” Jorel mocked.

 “I’m still betting on you Danny,” Jordon said, taking a swig from his bottle while watching the other two play.

Jorel took another shot, hitting the striped ball in the pocket.

 He thought it would be a good idea to invite Aron for a game of pool that evening. It was just going to be the four of them for the night.

   Danny had high hopes of forming a friendship with Aron, something he never had with ‘Deuce’.

Fifteen minutes goes by until the door to the pool hall opens and in walks none other than Aron.

“Hey, look what the ‘crakin’ dragged in,” Jordon said, trying to be edgy.

“You’re officially worse than Dylan,” Danny confirmed.

Aron looked over at Jordon then back at Danny and Jorel. “Hey.” The awkwardness was already beginning to creep in.

“You look wiped out. Rough night?” Jorel asked.

“I’ve been working really hard on my album,” Aron yawned.

_Oh no._

He was happy Aron was keeping busy on one hand. On the other, it worried him that any music Aron produced would trigger a flashback.

“Get any good labels yet?” Danny asked, trying to start a conversation.

_Please don’t remember him as ‘American idol reject’._

“Nah, not yet. Everyone is trying to censor me.” Aron picked up a pool stick, changing the tip.

  Danny was already baffled at how casual Aron was acting towards them. It was nice being within three feet of the performer and not having to prepare himself for verbal attacks. It was quite nice actually.

Well, here goes everything. “Aron, do you remember me?” Danny asked.

“Hmm, I know who you are, I mean.” Aron had to stop and think for a minute.

_Please don’t have a flashback._

_Not now._

“Oh…yea I remember you. You toured with us on Desperate measures and you helped out when I got sick.” Aron recalled.

_There must be a god out there after all._

Even Jordon was wide-eyed at the positive response.

“Well, let’s get to know each other again. Since you already know me then you should get to know Charlie.P Scene.” Danny pushed Jordon in the spotlight.

“We already met before actually,” not wanting to get into the embarrassing details about his flashback episode. “I remembered your boyfriend too,” he added.

“Why is that?” Jordon questioned, curious to know how he was able to remember his little ‘fuzz-head’ so well.

“We talked a lot and we had had fun. I can’t pin-point everything but I know little things like how he would beat me at arm wrestling.”

“People who weigh 80-pounds wet don’t win at arm wrestling, just saying.”

“Be nice asshole.” Jorel warned.

“Hah, it’s cool, I know. I can fit in my sister’s skinny jeans,” Aron admitted.

“At least you own it. Ok, Danny-boy, move over. I’m going to show you how a real man plays pool,” swiping the stick out of Danny’s hand.

 

Aron looked at the stove clock. 2 A.M.

_Where does the time go?_

A shower and a 12-hour sleep sounded pretty good right about now. A quick buzz in his pocket instinctively told him to reach for his phone.

_1 new Facebook friend request from Dylan Alvarez._

Oh, Funny man sent me a Facebook request, he thought amusingly. Before he could tap the ‘confirm’ option, his messenger popped up on the screen.

_Dylan: What do you remember about me?_

Wow, ok so not even a ‘hi’. Just getting right to the point? If he wants to be that way, then he could do the same. After all he is ‘Deuce’ right? The kind of guy that can throw more than he could get hit.

_Aron: You’re actually not that funny._

Lame, he didn’t actually have much ammo under his belt.

_Dylan: Fucking cute. I’m serious._

_Aron: I am being serious I don’t remember anything with you._

_Dylan: Fine, whatever, Don’t forget. 4 tomorrow. See ya Deuce._

Tomorrow was Halloween. It was the big day he would get to see the six undead men. Not knowing what to expect, he agreed to attend anyways.

_Aron: You know it!_

Aron rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before his phone let out another  _‘ding’._

Opening the app once more he found himself looking at an old picture of what looked like him and Dylan. It had to be around maybe 13 years ago. It was just creepy how close they looked together. He knew he was with Jorel for a long time. Did he cheat? Nah, he knew he wasn’t exactly everyone’s fan favorite but, he couldn’t imagine himself stooping so low.

_What am I thinking?_

_It’s just a friendly photo from more than a decade ago. Nothing to think about._

With that, Aron plugged his phone into the wall charger and let the thought drop.

He went for the shower when suddenly a dizzy spell threw him off balance. He had to lean against the bathroom sink. A headache hit him next and his eyes rolled almost to the back of his head. It was happening again. He slumped against the bottom cabinets.

_Dammit._

“Gadjet!” He called to his roommate before he lost reality once more.

_I hate it when this happens._

_(_ **Here's the pic of Deuce and funny I found for visual reference**

**http://www.deviantart.com/art/Funny-and-Deuce-2-252029625**

_-TBC_


	9. Love like woe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating once a week probably on weekends.  
> Just letting you guys know i'm about 25% done with this story.  
> -Cye

**(2012)**

“Let me get this straight, you’re going to work with Dahvie Vanity?” Se7en arched a brow.

The two bands were in the middle of the ‘Fight to Unite’ tour. Aron and David always kept in close contact since Deuce was often featured in his band.

“Yea, I’m not crazy about it,” responding, not really paying any attention. Aron couldn’t help but turn the screen on his phone on and off every 10 seconds. Just as he expected, the message came.

_Room number 303. Motel 6._

“Nice talking to ya man but, I got shit to do, see ya!”

“Wait, dude!...Well I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.” The Brokencyde lead singer sighed.

 Aron shut the cab door before walking up the concrete steps looking at the room numbers as he passed.

_297, 299, 301. Ah, here we go._

He knocked twice before the door opened. “Finally, I thought you were too busy to see me with all that fame going on,” he said sarcastically, leaning against the doorway.

“Shut up.” Aron rolled his eyes, letting himself in.

The Russian was pushed against the wall, lips locked with the other the moment the door closed behind him. It didn’t take long before he felt the other’s hands run up his body under his shirt. “Did you miss me?” Jorel whispered.

“What do you think?” Aron grabbed Jorel by the front of his shirt, pushing him on the bed. He straddled the Italian, unbuttoning the other’s pants. Before he could go any further Aron’s mask fell out of the hoodie of his jacket.

Jorel picked up the disco-plated mask, trying it on. “How can you breathe with this thing on? It weighs like ten pounds.”

“Beauty is pain,” Aron shrugged. “And you’re telling me my mask is heavy? You guys are wearing a fire hazard.”  He said in reference to the crew’s L.E.D fixture on their masks.

Lifting the mask halfway off his face, Aron gave him another kiss.

 While it was just the two of them, Jorel thought it would be the perfect time to bring up an ongoing subject.  “Aron, what would it take for you to give in and apologize to Danny?” The tension between 9Lives and HU was getting worse. It started with a stupid twitter tweet and ended up turning into world war 3.

“I didn’t do shit!” he swore in denial. Aron moved himself off of Jorel. “Thanks for ruining the mood.”

“You know it’s not like that. I just want things to calm down, he explained, tossing the mirrored mask off to the end of the bed. Even if you don’t mean it can’t you just pretend? For us?” Jorel wrapped his arms around Aron’s chest, bringing the other closer, nuzzling his neck.

    Aron let out a groan. “I’m not going to suck up to them. You know I’m not going apologize for nothing to a fuck-boy.” Aron still had that harsh fire inside him and nothing, not even his long time love could ever put it out.

 Jorel knew responding to him with voice of reason wasn’t going to work. With that being said he used a more seductive method. Leaving love bite around Aron’s neck before turning them into hickies. “What would it take?”

“Watch the neck,” Aron moaned, feeling a firm hand grip his thigh. “I’m not going to apologize,” he repeated, blushing.

“Nothing can change your mind?” Jorel pinned him down on the mattress, holding his skinny wrists above his head.

   Aron’s heated pride died down the moment he looked into those dominating eyes. “Depends, what are you going to do to me?” He bit his lip wanting the Italian to fuck him into the mattress.

“I’m going to fuck your brains out,” Jorel started to explain, grabbing a condom from his back pocket. “Then I’m gonna-“

* * *

    

    Aron woke up with a gasp. He looked around the room in confusion for a minute before he realized it was another flashback, this time in his sleep. Shaking and sweating from the rush, his mind flooded with questions.

_What was Jorel about to say?_

_Why did I owe Danny an apology?_

_I got into a fight with the crew?_

_That mask._

         Aron looked at the closet door. There was a box above his shelf he had yet to unpack when he moved in with Tony. Still shaking from his episode, he walked his way into the walk in closet. The lightbulb flickered as he turned on the switch. Above his head was a cardboard box crammed with junk. Pulling down the box and dropping it to the floor, he dug into mess. Band shirts, old merchandise from Swan Songs, and there it was. The glass, mirrored mask, covered with a layer of dust in the year it hadn’t been touched. He ran his index finger over the lines that separated the shards. This mask told a hundred stories he had yet to hear again.

Aron stepped into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the reflection in the mirror. Right as he was mere seconds from attaching his old identity, a voice startled him, hearing the front door open.

     “Get your ass in bed before I have to carry you to your room again!” Tony put the grocery bags on the table along with his keys.

_If he yells at me one more time._

      Aron placed the mask on the bathroom counter, not in the mood to handle Tony’s mother-hen bullshit.

Just my luck, He comes home just as I wake up.

_I’m not about to take any of his shit, not today Satan._

“Tony, I thought I made it clear. I don’t need you to baby me. ” Aron was trying really hard not to go off.

“Funny how you were calling my name right before you blacked out. I give a fuck about you.” Tony was holding back his emotional frustration while desperately trying to put on a tough guy face but it failed every time. “I’m not after you.”

      “I’m a grown man!” Nervousness racked his voice.

“You got hit by a truck. You can’t go a week without blacking out. I don’t care if you’re 33 or 40, you’re sick and I’m going to make sure you don’t bust open your head again.”

Aron knew Tony liked him, a lot. He was younger, handsome, attractive, couldn’t hurt a fly, and on top of that he always did what he said. Jorel was probably the one reason he wasn’t sleeping in the same bed with the Latino. The constant uncertainty was fucking with his head. Now that he thought about it, the ‘Aron’ in his flashbacks always seemed stronger than the ‘Aron’ he was now.

_Where was that fire when he needed it the most?_

_Where did it go?_

“I’m sorry ok?” Aron sighed, rings darkening his eyes.

“I don’t blame you.” Tony knew he should keep his distance. He knew he was smothering Aron. It was hard explaining his feelings, even to himself. He didn’t even like guys, except him. After the accident, Tony saw the soft, vulnerable, side of Aron and he couldn’t help but coddle the singer.

Before Aron disappeared into his room he took one last look at the artist. “Thanks Tony.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

 

      The spirit of Halloween was in the air and the sport’s bar was packed with people. Most of them friends of the Undead crew.

   George was just boosting about a film he was going to play in to a couple of old friends. “Highway to Havasu won’t be out till next year though.” He couldn’t help but be at least a tad bit proud of it, even if it might turn out to be a total flop.

         Meanwhile Jordon and his brother were playing beer pong along with Matt. “What do you wanna bet to lose when I kick your ass?” Matt asked, feeling cocky. “Be careful with that,” Jake warned. “Or you might find yourself in a very dark place,” he joked.

  Loud music. Good friends. Great vibes for everyone. Except Dylan who kept looking at the door.

It was a well-known fact that Aron and Dylan weren’t exactly best buds even before the departure of Aron but, not for the reason everyone seems to think. He decided to just ditch the party, saying ‘bye’ to a few people. He knew he’d hear it from quite a few people the next morning about how he just disappeared but then again why should he stick around when he wasn’t enjoying himself?

      Just when he thought the heavy weight was being lifted off his shoulders he bumped into the one person who was making him act on edge right as he stepped foot out of the bar.

“Woops, Sorry D,” Aron apologized.

Seeing the shorter man gave Dylan chills and goosebumps.

_Now? Of all times?_

“Why are you leaving?” The bluenette asked. "I thought you wanted to see me or something?"

“It’s late, and I have a life.” He shrugged, looking to his right to avoid eye contact.

“Oh, ok? See ya around dude,” and with that he made his way into the lively group of people.

Dylan pulled his car keys out of his pocket, turning his head to get one last look at Aron.

_How I wish you would hate me again._

      

   “Hey, look who made it!” Jordon turned the attention of a few people including Matt and Jake over to the Russian.

   Aron gave a friendly wave. “Yea, sorry I was caught up in something,” he explained.

  “Does it have to do with who I think it does?” Matt guessed, making a face of irritation.

“Who else, Fucking Tony. He’s nice so I can’t yell at him. I yell at him and I feel bad. The worst part is he won’t yell back so I feel even more like shit.”

     “Dude sounds like he has clingy-passive aggressive issues.” Jordon put in.

“I can handle aggressive. I can’t stand whatever the fuck he has going on in his head. Where’s J?” Aron asked, looking around for the guy he was dating.

 “In the back.”

Aron made his way to the back towards the dart boards, scanning faces when he felt a tight hug squeeze him from behind.

“Got you!”

Aron squeaked in surprise, already knowing whose strong arms they belonged to.

“You almost scared the piss outta me!”

Sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek, Jorel released his hug. “Keyword is ‘almost’.”

    Aron was going to rant to Jorel about Tony’s clingy behavior and everything else that was upsetting in his life. All of a sudden, that didn’t matter to him now. For the past month he had bonded with someone from his somewhat past life and it felt wonderful to find someone who had already cared about him so much. He didn’t have to do anything; he didn’t have to go on awkward dates or pretend to be interested in boring conversations because they already had something amazing between them. Despite the memory loss, the agonizing flashbacks, and the shadiness of what exactly happened between them, Aron didn’t want to lose a chance at being happy.

_Should I do it?_

_We’ve been dating for weeks._

_Here goes everything._

“You ok?” Jorel was worried about Aron having another flashback whenever he stared into space like this.

Aron wrapped his arms around Jorel’s neck, bringing him into an actual kiss.

The other felt his heart beat rapidly. Jorel had his arms around the other’s waist. To him this kiss was everything. Not only was it a second chance but it made him feel like he was in his early 20’s again.

“Does this mean we’re going steady?” Jorel asked, not letting go.

“Well I was hoping so.”

“Then it’s official.”

Something was going right for once in Aron’s life.

-TBC


	10. Life is no fairytale, it’s something grim

          October came and went, the day’s crew colder as late November approached. Aron kept busy with his music while his relationship with Jorel grew stronger. The only flashbacks in which occurred were only in his sleep, dreams of nothing but happy memories and events. The best part out of all of this was the friendship circle he created with everyone, except Dylan, he just kept his distance for some odd reason.

 Everything was in its place. Life was perfect, almost anyway.

“Nine missed calls?”

  _Ok, this was getting ridiculous now._

 Aron was nice about it first but it just didn’t stop. He felt like he couldn’t blink without Tony breathing down his neck, making excuses for his obsessiveness.

          Jorel looked over Aron’s shoulder to see the repetitive missed calls. The two were spending quality time with each other, snuggling on the sofa, in between blankets while another bad sequel of Sharknado ran on the sci-fi channel.

“I’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” Jorel offered.

       “No puppy, it’s fine, he’s just annoying.” Aron set his phone on the coffee table and laid his tired head on the other’s slowly rising and falling chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was almost strong enough to lull Aron to sleep.

     Jorel ran his fingers through his partner’s dark blue hair. He couldn’t shake the feeling of jealousy despite proof there was no cheating involved. The apartment just felt empty whenever the blue-head went home.

“I think you should move in with me.”

     Aron didn’t expect such a suggestion. Yuma was already pissed at him after he found out he and his ex were an item. His longtime friend had a mindset for Aron, that he should focus more on record labels and not so much on his relationship. He couldn’t blame Yuma, he worked just as hard as Tony did on helping their group step back into the music industry.

   “I don’t know,” he sighed, not lifting his head up. “Isn’t it too soon? What about Dylan?” Aron worried.

“What about him?” Jorel pulled the covers over them.

 “You see the way he looks at me?” Everyone had taken a liking to the new Aron, except the tall Mexican.

  “Well I’m paying part of the rent here so I have a say, and I say you can move in,” he declared, kissing the bridge of Aron’s nose.

   “I’ll think about it.”

   “Are we going too fast?” Jorel asked, concerned in the comfort of his better-half.

       “No, I mean maybe-I don’t know,” Aron couldn’t help but get nervous. The flashbacks he collected had formed an image of their past relationship, but it wasn’t enough to copy the same feeling of the relationship from before.

  “I don’t trust the guy you’ve been living with.”

     “I know, but Tony’s helping me, a lot, with things you can’t,” referring to his dying music career.

  Jorel felt selfish with what he said next, “What about us? It’s not like you have all the pressure you used to.”

       Aron pushed himself up from Jorel’s chest, sitting up and looking at him with a look of disgust. Jorel swore he caught a glimpse of the old Aron in those eyes. “So what I want doesn’t matter? You want me to sit around just for you?”

     _Well here it is, our first fight as a new couple again._

     “No, no, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I meant you need to take it easy.” Jorel defended, trying to cover his ass, immediately regretting saying anything.

          “It’s been a whole fucking year…almost. I’m fine.” Jorel reminded Aron of Tony whenever the state of his memory and well-being was brought up, everyone assumed he was still falling apart.

           Aron had one foot on the carpet when the other’s hands gripped his skinny wrists, pulling him back into their cuddle nest. “I’m not trying to hold you back. Believe me I want to see you get back on stage, but I hate seeing you fall to the floor every time you get stressed.” Now it was Jorel’s turn to get his nerves racked. The guilt and lies were coming back to bite him. Aron was putting his trust into him, still believing that he left Hollywood undead despite what the internet said. He was scared shitless at the thought of wasting his second chance at a clean slate with Aron.

       “Number one, I’m fine, I’ll worry about myself thanks, two…” Aron didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes focused on the other, not blinking. Seconds later, his eyes rolled to the back of his head before collapsing into the other’s chest.

            Jorel knew the drill when the flashbacks triggered. “You’re not fucking fine.” Aron was still the same skinny stick as before, easy for Jorel to maneuver to his bed. He laid the bluenette down and saw stray tear marks. He assumed the worst, guessing it was all over now and each moment he was knocked unconscious was a minute he was experiencing in his dreams the bad news that changed the band and their relationship for the worst.

“I’m sorry, I had to do it,” he confessed, knowing Aron couldn’t hear him.

**__________(2014)____________**

       The raven haired Russian crouched down in front of the engraved stone. “It shouldn’t have ended this way.”

       The dash line on the gravestone told a story. It was the era between birth and death. Compared to the millions of years the universe existed, the dash line was only brief moments, but those few years in one’s life greatly impacted the lives of others. The thing that made life so precious was the endless amount of potential, the possibilities endless.

         His possibilities were cut off, laid in a casket six feet under.

            _Rest in peace, Vardan Aslanyan._

       Aron couldn’t make it to the funeral weeks ago, nor did he want to. That didn’t stop him from bawling his eyes out or the drug usage. His eyes still red and bloodshot from his earlier hysteria, letting out all his regrets, all the things he should have said and done.

        Matt felt empathy in what he was going through. “He couldn’t be helped.”

     Aron was grateful Matt was able to visit the graveyard with him. He couldn’t let anyone else see him mourn, thinking how pitiful he looked. He knew Jorel would’ve been the first one besides him, and even then the rest of the crew would’ve put aside their feud in terms of death.

   “Dumbass. Couldn’t get his shit together to save his life. Twisted killed him.”

   Twisted was the name of a gang Varden got involved with. After the ‘what is drugs’ scene, Aron had no choice but to remove him from the group. The media let everyone know how this man overturned a car on a reckless drug rampage, nearly killing a child.

  “He killed himself by overdosing. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

  “I should’ve been there. I just let him go,” he sniffled, looking up to prevent his tear ducts from letting out any fluids.

 “He would’ve pulled you down with him, and you know it.”

  “Like how I would’ve pulled Hollywood Undead down right?” Aron got up, meeting sight level with the other’s eyes.

 Matt had nothing to say.

 “You’re not allowed to tell me ‘there’s nothing I could’ve done’. It’s easy to replace someone right? Johnny fuck face would’ve said the same fucking thing!”

     “This isn’t about George! This is about you!” Matt had to lower his voice, trying to not turn a graveyard visit into an argument. “You let the wrong people into your life. You knew this was going to happen.”

        “You’re right curly, I let the wrong people in my life, Varden and the rest of the fucking trash I put my whole heart in!” referring to Hollywood Undead. Aron couldn’t stop grinding the back of his teeth. Now he wasn’t sure if he was upset he just lost a friend or he was taking his shattered emotions out on Matt.

“I think you need help.”

  “And I think you need to fuck-off.” Aron’s combative language told Matt he was right.

  “You’re using again.”  

 “I called and asked for a shoulder to cry on, not an intervention.”

“Why do I care if you’re going to spit in my face? I care, Jorel cares. You couldn’t even tell him about this mess.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about me.”                                  

“I hear him at two in the morning when you have one of your fucking break-downs, are you shitting me Aron. I think _you_ don’t care that we care.”

 “You’re right I don’t fucking care anymore.” All fight in Aron ceased to exist now. “I’m going on tour in Russia in three months.”

 “That soon?”

 “We already have a replacement,” he explained, thinking of Tony. “Everyone’s disposable right?” Aron looked back at the engraved dash mark.

* * *

      Aron’s face was damp, crying in his dream-like state. The past events unlocked the door to all other memories with Varden, or ‘The truth’.

   _I was never told this._

  _He was important to me._

Fury told him to make a scene at Yuma and Tony for never saying a word after he lost his memory.

Greif made him cry in agony.

   Long nights of talking and working together. Someone to listen when he was angry. All those moments in their friendship were crushing him like a sack of bricks now.

  He had been dead for years. It was just moments ago he relearned this fact.

            Using a pillow to cry into wasn’t enough to muffle the sound of the emotional distress.

          Dylan was about to leave the apartment. Jorel had informed him Aron was sleeping in the other room and he needed to lay low for a few hours after he assumed Aron was going to remember how he was actually departed from the band.

Dylan couldn’t ignore the sob coming from one of the bedrooms. He pushed the door open at the end of the hall, flipping the light switch to find the smaller man hyperventilating.

 Aron looked at Dylan and then away. Using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face.

     “Are you going to be ok?” Dylan asked, already feeling awkward.

“I think,” taking a deep breath when his panic attack finished.

 “What did you remember?” concerned about what he might have recalled.

Instead of answering, Aron grabbed the pillow and cried into the fabric for a solid minute. “I was at a cemetery, Matt was there.”  

  _Well, at least it’s not what I think._

     “Why were you and Matt at a cemetery?” Dylan asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.

  “Varden died. No one told me about it,” his voice monotone.

       Dylan never knew the guy personally, only as a rapper. “That sucks, they should’ve said something.” He found himself having something some sympathy for Aron. Seeing his misery changed his mind about his personal issue.

 “Ever thought about getting help for this?” Dylan asked.

   “I was told to take it one day at a time. I don’t even know where my day starts anymore. One minute I’m here and the next I’m somewhere else like five years ago. I feel helpless, I’m confused all the time, I don’t know who to trust. Was I a really bad person?”

  “Nah, you were just rough around the edge.” 

_You were a bi-polar glory hound. I wanted to strangle you._

“The flashbacks tell me I was always angry at something.” Aron brushed his hair to one side of his face. “I was so against all of you in the last one. I feel so bad when I wake up. The only thing I remember since I got fucked up is my music and it sounds so different than the old stuff.”

“I think you were only out for like ten minutes, how do you remember so much?” Dylan noticed the flashbacks were shorter than before.

 “It feels like hours when it happens. When I wake up I get scared I won’t wake up in the next one, like fucking purgatory. I feel like shit right now.”

      Secretly Dylan was starting to like the new Aron. He was nice, and sensitive. The walls of fire were crumbling down around this guy. Whatever happens, happens. He wanted a friendship with Aron, even if it ended up being temporary.

“I have something that’s gonna make you feel better. It _was_ going to be a surprise,” a group surprise actually.

   “Really what?” Aron asked, curious.

“Don’t tell anyone, this is just between us ok?”

Aron nodded, understanding.

    “We got a spot for you to come with us on the next tour.”

Just like that Aron’s mood went full ecstatic, forgetting about the amnesia dilemma for a while. “No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way. You coming?”

“Duh, no shit dude!” Aron got up from bed to grab his phone out of the charger. This was awesome. He could see his boyfriend and friends on stage. It was still weird touring with a band he used to be in, but he needed all the company he could get right now, just something to distract him.

“You can’t tell anyone; it’s supposed to be a secret.” Dylan reminded.

“I won’t. I need to let my crew know I’ll be leaving though.”

_Me and Aron are friends now? Damn, I might be dreaming._

 “Whatever, I’m heading out, and don’t say a word.” Dylan warned halfway out the room.

“I know, I’m not stupid.”

He still wished Aron would hate him.

    -TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied, I'll be posting whenever I can. I promised myself I would finish this so yea....  
> If you're new to the fandom, here's the what is drugs video  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRSH--pRkQU
> 
> Just a side dabble. I'm not actually 100% sure if Truth is dead or not. A co-worker of mine told me he did by getting involved with a gang. possibly there was a video(?) Not sure if he actually died, If anyone has any actual info, I would love to hear it.  
> -Cye


	11. Pretty little windstorm

   “Stop moving, you’re making this worse,” Jordon grunted.

  Matt pulled forward, trying to make the pain stop. “Fucking pull it out.”

 “I’m trying just stop screaming!” Jordon did his best to get the sticky substance out.

“Just be gentle,” Matt whimpered.

     “Chill, I got this bae.” Jordon opened the bathroom drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors, ready to cut the wadded gum out of Matt’s hair after ten minutes of unsuccessfully brushing it out.

    “W-wait, maybe we’ll try the freezer thing again,” he didn’t completely trust his boyfriend with anything sharp, let alone anything sharp around his fro.

  “I’m trying to get the gum out, you’re being dramatic.”

     “Fine, cut it,” Matt gave in anxiously. One wrong snip was all it took to ruin the shape of the thick hair he took so much care of.

       Hair and gum bits fell to the floor after careful precision.

    “I think I got it all out,” Jordon set the scissors on the table, searching Matt’s hair for any bits of the candy he missed. “You know what’s gonna suck when we get fired up for tour? Not being able to have any ‘alone time’.”

       “That's not until early next year, we still have time,” Matt reassured, brushing out his hair.

       Jordon smiled, thinking about everything they had been through over the years, the rehearsals, the parties, the nights out at a club, the fights, and the make-ups. “Gotta make every second count then.” Jordon scooped Matt up bridal style, the other caught off guard.

      “Shit, don’t drop me.” Matt laid in Jordon’s arms, helpless. It seemed that the two were always a team of some sort. Never too far away from each other. Jordon’s chill-tough guy attitude always matched with Matt’s silly yet tamed personality.

    _I feel like the luckiest person alive, thank god I found you._

       Jordon leaned down to the other’s face for a kiss, before that could happen, Matt licked the other’s lips.

 Jordon was taken aback. “Gettin kinky?”

          “You said, make every second count, right?” Matt pulled the back of Jordon’s hair, indicating he wanted it rough.

       Jordon laid Matt halfway on the table, getting in between his legs. “Wanna see if we can break the table this time?”

       “It’s worth a try."

Yea, they were meant for each other.

  

 

 

         A hurricane couldn’t wake Aron up, let alone being gently shaken. The old Deuce would’ve swatted anyone who dare disturb his beauty sleep.

       “Common, it’s noon-thirty.” Things had been looking better for the past few days, despite Aron’s depression after the graveyard flashback. “Kitty, wake up.” Jorel grabbed a pillow and lightly smacked the bluenette in the face.

          “I don’t wanna puppy,” he mumbled, only half asleep now. He rolled over in the sheets as an attempt to ignore his boyfriend.

         Jorel repeatedly hit him over the head with the pillow until Aron finally got fed-up. He grabbed the pillow away from the Italian and hit him hard in the face. “I’m tired. You’re being a jerk,” Aron snapped.

         Aron moved in the day the depression kicked in. Now actually worried about the flashbacks and the damages they could do, he was relieved to have Jorel keeping a closer watch over him.

        “That’s what you get for drooling on my shoulder,” Jorel stuck his tounge out in a childish manner.

     “Whatever.” Ten hours just wasn’t enough for him anymore. He took off his shirt, exposing one of the two scars he received from the crash.

          “Woah-wait,” Jorel saw how deep the mark ran, all the way from his chest through the _3 tears_ tattoo. “That looks fucking awful.” Jorel slowly motioned his hand over the scar, feeling the depth of the injury. “It cut through the letters.”

         “That’s not the only one.” Aron took Jorel’s hand and guided it over the scar underneath his dark blue hair. The second scar ran across the back of his head.

       “Does it hurt?” Jorel removed his hand, now imagining the pain his baby boy had to go through, all the stiches that had to be sewn in the back of his head.

          Aron shook his head. “Not anymore. It used to itch like hell though.” The head injuries were the prime reason to dying his hair a dark shade of blue, it hid the head injuries better than the jet black hair had, and two, he needed his own identity, being known as _‘Deuce’_ wasn’t enough, he needed a fresher distinctive look.   

         “Wish you told me about this.”

       “Why so you can feel sorry for me?” Aron grabbed a clean towel from the hall closet next to the bathroom.

           “So I can be more sensitive, I don’t know.” The guilt was digging deeper, still deathly afraid of Aron finding the real reason of his departure.

“Whatever, you gonna join me in the shower or what?” Aron asked.

“In a bit, I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” Jorel yawned.

“You wake me up and you’re the tired one? Wow, ok.” Aron made his way into the bathroom, leaving Jorel alone with his thoughts.

  _Why do you have to be so innocent all of a sudden?_

_Why can’t I have a clean slate as well?_

       Jorel walked into the kitchen and poured enough water and grinded coffee beans into the coffee maker to make about ten cups. He constantly worried of their current relationship status. Jorel had known Aron forever and a half, while Aron had technically only known him for not even two months, not counting the time the flashbacks gave back, and now they were suddenly living together. Of course they had gone out on dates and gotten to know the surface of one another. It was still a difficult relationship to maintain due to this imbalance. He was going to try everything in his power to hold onto Aron. Was it going to be enough?  The Italian leaned against the counter, lost in a train of thought when he heard his love’s voice.

       “That better not be decaf.”

    Jorel turned around. “I thought you were in the shower?”

Aron shrugged. “I like to have someone wash my hair for me. I can wait.”

       That was one of the many sassy lines that always made him smile. He would always be a prince in Jorel’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, but his ego was one of the best things Jorel liked about him. Too bad Aron couldn’t control it, it was an absolute inferno having to explain to him that the band just couldn’t continue with him, and his destructive personality.

     _Although that really wasn’t like him now was it?_

“Hey J.”

Jorel turned his head, not expecting a random kiss. “Hmm?” He blinked.

       “Shut up, you’re thinking too hard about something, and your morning breath is rancid,” Aron noted out loud, making a scrunched up face.

         Jorel looked at the coffee maker, then at his boyfriend. “You know; they say sex is better at waking you up than coffee.”

           Aron sighed, giving a tired look at Jorel. "You know I don't feel comfortable with that yet."

      Jorel rolled his eyes. "I was kidding." He knew these things took time. "How do you feel about the double-date we're going on today?"

"It's whatever, probably won't be as fun as the one went on like nine years ago," referencing the time they went to the county fair in the flashback he had.

"Why is that?" Jorel asked.

"Probably because Jordon and Matt actually like each other now. I won't get to hear them screaming at each other anymore, that shit was funny."

Jorel shook his head, holding in a laugh. "You're so bad."

 

-TBC


	12. NOT DEAD

Ok, I know this fanfic has been idle for a while, but I will most likely be writing a new chapter during the summer. Im.keeping my promise, this will NOT be abandoned.  
-cye


	13. Chapter 12: Sick with myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I'm back (sorta)  
> -I was surprised at how many people even liks this fic so thank you  
> -Updates will be probably near summer. (Unless I find time)  
> So Chapter 12 right here  
> -cye

 

 

_Sushi sounded good to everyone that night._

_All four of them._

_A double date._

          It took a lot of fake enthusiasm to pull off a reaction when Aron heard the words,“Wanna come on tour with us? We have a spot open dude,” come out of Jordon’s mouth. He already knew he was welcomed on board to the tour. Dylan was always bad with keeping surprises a secret.

“I’m stoked!” the bluenette twirled the chopsticks in between his fingers. Taking a look over the sushi bar displayed before him, impatiently waiting for the chef to complete his order.

       Jorel wondered why Aron had used a less than genuine tone of voice.

“Hey babe, if you don’t want to come that's totally fine,” he assured, nudging Aron’s arm with his elbow. 

        “Why would you say that? Why wouldn’t I want to go?” Truth be told, it wasn’t just the fact that his calm reaction was because the surprise was ruined earlier, but because the thought of having a bad flashback brought thoughts of anxiety.

       “I think this could be good for everyone,” Matt spoke up, already shoving food in his mouth as soon as the food was served.

        “What do you mean?” Jordon asked in a whispered, thankful he was sitting on the other side from Jorel and Aron, not wanting anything to ‘slip’ that might hinder Aron and Jorel’s new relationship.

        “ I was thinking,” Matt started, swallowing a mouth full of food “No one knows Aron is going to be touring with us right? Like, no one knows what happened to ‘Deuce’ right?”

Jordon nodded slowly “yea?”

   “Hear me out, we bring him on tour, and then we bring him on stage or some shit for a split second-”

   Jordon didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“How about no, you’re fucking out of your mind!” Other people in the restaurant including Aron and Jorel leaned out of their bar stools to give Jordon a questioning look when he raised his voice above appropriate level. The rapper gave a sigh, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the attention he had drawn from his small outburst.

Matt rolled his eyes.

“At least let me fucking say what I was going to say before you shut my ideas down, asshole.” he hissed.

Aron put down his chopsticks. “Be right back, gotta pee,” and with that, he left the sushi bar to go use the restroom.

       Jorel glared at the other couple when Aron left.

“what the fuck guys?”

     Jordon put his hands up in defense,“i’m not the one with the risky idea.”

“What?” Jorel turned his attention to Matt. “What risky idea?”

    “Oh now you guys wanna hear?” Matt gave as much attitude as he could, annoyed. “Like I was saying, what if we brought Aron on stage for like a minute and we show everyone that everything is fine between us and Aron, that's all.”

   “So many things could go wrong, you’re playing with fire, you know this right?” Jordon pointed out.

  “No, wait Charlie, he has a good point, if we show a good chunk of our fans everything is great, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide Aron.” Jorel thought about it. This idea could do one of two things, put out the fire between Aron and the rest of them for good, or just add gasoline to the flames.  

“Told you it was a good idea,” Matt said.

“Yea, yea frizz-fuck,” Jordon smiled, tugging the back of Matt’s hair, making the other gasp.

 

      Aron wanted to go to bed early that night, he really did.

Too bad a certain someone else had other plans to constantly keep him awake.

Aron had to silence his phone upon constantly seeing the name ‘Gadjet’ pop up on his notification over and over nonstop.

 

_“Hey”_

_“Aron”_

_“Do you have time to talk?”_

_“Please”_

_“There's so much I need to say”_

_“Aron call me”_

 

“Ugh,” Aron grunted, cuddled up in bed scrolling through the harassing text messages.

“What?” Jorel asked, taking off his shirt.

“It’s Anthony, he just won’t stop.”

Jorel grabbed the phone and placed it on the nightstand before grabbing Aron’s hands.

“It’s his own fault if he doesn't know when to back off.” Jorel kissed Aron’s nose before his lips.

Aron sighed, “I’m just a little stressed I guess.”

Those eyes made Jorel’s heart melt.

_How long had it been since they had loved each other like this?_

_When did did the relationship fall apart before?_

The truth and lie about Aron’s departure still clawed at Jorel, every time he looked into those eyes, guilt would poke at him. “I’m going to join you in a sec.” He gave Aron another kiss before leaving the room to take out the trash.

      Aron grabbed his phone and checked his bank account information when he got a new notification, hence the vibration he knew it was incoming text message. Fed up, he was ready to unleash holy hell on Anthony when he saw it was from Dylan.

_“You up?_

Aron replied back immediately.

_“Yea whats up?”_

_“Do you remember an old myspace account we made?”_

Aron thought for a second. What an odd question.

_“What?”_

_“The one me and you made a long time ago”_

Aron felt his heart pound. He did remember the account. As a matter of fact he started to remember more than just the Myspace account. He already felt the numbness start to take in. 

_“Aron?”_

The bluenette looked down at the text before falling into the familiar void of a flashback episode. The phone slipped out of his hand onto the sheets as he blacked out.The wave of flashbacks had knocked him out of consciousness.

Jorel came back in the room shortly after Aron blacked out.

“Babe?”

No response.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He wanted to cuddle his boyfriend but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. He propped Aron’s head on a pillow, tucking him in the covers. Jorel picked the phone off the bed to place it back on the night stand again when he noticed the open messages from Dylan.

_Myspace account?_

Jorel narrowed his eyes, very protective of Aron.

He had quite a few questions for the younger band member.

-TBC


	14. Chapter 13: Hollywood

**____(2004)____**

Aron breathed heavily, his palms sweating against the steering wheel. It was the fluttering, nervousness in his chest that was causing such excitement. The kind of excitement you could only experience when you're young and stupid. He had to split his attention between the road and the GPS.

 _“Turn right on 25th avenue,”_ the device instructed.

 

 

A few nights ago, Aron met someone at a local band called ‘Dead Planets’. Sure, it was just an average garage band that was nothing beyond average, but Jorel saw potential in one band members in particular, Dylan Alverez.

Jorel asked his best friend to just go out and talk to the guy to see if this guy was still interested in the forming band soon to be Hollywood Undead. Aron didn’t hesitate to agree.

The only problem Aron had with talking to Dylan was he found the younger singer quite attractive.

 

_He’s not gay._

  
_This dude looks like a total womanizer._  
 _Don’t do anything stupid._  
 _He's not gay!_  
 _Just stop thinking!_  
 _Be cool._

 

Aron mentally screamed at himself the whole time driving. He was impressed to see such a nice home as he pulled up to the address.

_Oh wait, that's right. He’s like 19 and still lives with mommy and daddy right?_

The raven-haired Russian sat in his car, his forehead resting against the steering wheel, cursing at himself.

Aron lifted his head when he heard his side kick buzzing. He pulled out his slide phone and saw an unsaved number sent a message.

 _‘R u goin 2 be sitting in the car all day or what?_ ’

The 22 year old looked out the window of his car to see none other than Dylan waving from the front room window.

_How the fuck did he get my number?_

Embarrassed, he hopped out of his Honda and walked up the driveway. Aron stood outside the door, looking down in nervousness until it opened.

Aron was getting those exact same feeling he did when he first saw the Mexican performing at the local show days ago.

“Damn Aron right?, that was fuckin quick. I thought you said you lived like an hour away?”

Aron had to force a stutter of a response. He took a second to admire Dylan’s shirtless abs.

“Ye-yea, well...I just dodged traffic,” he shrugged, failing at ‘playing cool’.

_You’re here just to do business._   
_Stop looking at him like that._   
_He’s not a slab of meat!_

“Sooo, about what Jdog was saying Tuesday,” Dylan started, referring to the first time Dylan met Jorel and Aron during the town concert. Jorel had suggested Dylan join their band.

“Y-yea, J was busy so he asked if I could swing by, ya know,” Aron answered, being as casual as he could.

“Wow, what a friend, making his buddy drive all the way out here.” Dylan scoffed. “Come on in,” he nodded his head inside, inviting Aron in.

Aron followed, the living room looked quite nice and spacy. Dylan lead Aron to a room at the end of the hallway, opening the door to his room which carried the smell of weed. Lava lamps and 80’s band posters decorated the walls and shelves.

“You said on your Myspace you write your own music?” Dylan asked, shutting the door.

Aron took a seat on the bed, “And vocals.”  
He felt a buzz from his phone, it was a text from Jorel.  
_‘U got there?’_  
The Russian raised an eyebrow.  
_Why was Jorel asking if he got there safely?_  
 _‘Yea y?’_  
Aron replied to Jorel before giving his undivided attention to the younger man. “I have a side band as well, 9Lives.”

Dylan grabbed a guitar and handed it to Aron. “I wanna hear something.” The Mexican sat on the other side, his eyes looking right into Aron’s.

_Oh fuck_

His brain was going into fight or flight mode as each second of awkward silence grew. He thought of something from the top of his head in one of his recent songs, playing the guitar to the lyrics.

“You helped me see, When there was so much in me. You helped me believe, When there was something to be, And I don’t mind if there’s nothing to say, Cuz in the end we’ll always find our way~.”

Dylan lit a blunt before getting lost in the other’s vocals, there was just something so soothing in his voice. Aron seemed to mellow out, focusing on his lyrics.

Aron was almost finished with his song ‘Franny’ when Dylan interrupted him. “You’re smaller in person ya know.”

The Russian blinked, “Oh?, uh,ok,” not sure what to say.

_In person?_   
_What?_   
_Wait, why did I even agree to come over here?_

Aron shook his head quickly, snapping out of thought. “Ok, wait, why am I playing for you? You’re supposed to show me what you got, not the other way around.” Aron informed, trying to stand his own ground.

_I shouldn’t be wasting my time here._

Dylan set his blunt down and let out a light hearted laugh that made Aron’s own melt. “I know you’ve been stalking my Myspace page, you think I wouldn’t notice that shit?”

_Oh..._

Aron quickly recalled the drunk nights for the past week scrolling through pictures, too afraid to send a message.

“Must’ve been a mistake,” he muttered. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy, I just thought you looked great in some of those pics,” Aron explained, feeling ashamed.

Dylan might have been high, but it was easy to see what was going on.

“Who else knows?”

“Knows what?” Aron blinked.

“That you’re in the closet?”

“I’m not in the closet,” Aron quickly responded, slightly uncomfortable now that he was figured out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not judging you, it’s chill.” Dylan noticed how Aron refused to make eye contact with him anymore.

“It’s fine. What did you mean by i’m smaller in person?”

“I….That was me trying to flirt,” Dylan shrugged.

_Woah what?_

“You’re gay?” Aron’s eyes widened, heart pounding worse than before.

“I’m curious, I like women but lately, i’ve been looking at a few guys, like this one guy I know,” Dylan winked.

_Oh my god._   
_No way._   
_He likes me?_

Aron’s head was filled with fear and excitement.

Dylan placed the guitar on the floor and scooted himself as close as he could to the nervous male. He lifted Aron’s chin so once again their eyes met before they closed in for a kiss. Aron’s eyes were closed shut tight, his body relaxed. The two paused briefly before lip-locking in a full makeout session. The two of them conversed in deep conversation before before falling asleep.

Aron fluttered his eyes open and found himself laying on Dylan’s chest. “So, how was it?”

“For my first time kissing a guy, pretty freaking great.” Dylan answered with a laugh, “did you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Aron’s smaller frame.

Aron gave another quick kiss before checking the time on his phone,11:05 P.M. “Oh fuck, it’s late.” He broke out of Dylan’s warm hug in alarm when he saw ten missed calls from Jorel.

“Aye, what’s the rush?” Dylan sat up, still shirtless.

“My roommate is crazy worried about me,” As soon as Aron called Jorel’s number Dylan swiped away the phone.

“Chill, you’re safe with me.” Dylan said sleepily.

Aron blushed. “I...I just didn’t want him to worry.”

Dylan sighed, “It’s alright. Hey how about this,” he started, pausing to yawn. “We go out, get take out, come back, eat, get high, and sleep in.”

“Sounds awesome,” he smiled. Aron saw no problem with it since he had the next day off.

Dylan put on a tank top and grabbed his keys.

“We can just take my car it’s no big deal,” Aron offered.

“Nah, i’m gonna be the one taking you out.” Dylan insisted.

Aron smirked “aren't you a gentleman.”

Dylan lifted Aron’s chin, giving him one more kiss.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Aron woke up in a anxiety filled state of panic. He didn’t know where he was for a good minute or so before realizing he was in his bedroom, reminding himself it was 2016.

“Baby, hey!” Jorel shouted, getting the other’s attention, the Italian holding him in his arms.

Aron regained composure, remembering his flashback before crying in hysteria, “Oh my fucking god,” he whimpered. He could feel confusion and heartbreak poisoning his heart.

_Dylan, me, us._

_Dated?_

_He never told me._

_This isn't fair!_

“Baby, hey, it’s going to be ok, i’m gonna get you help ok?” Jorel promised, thinking therapy might be the best solution for his boyfriend’s flashback episodes.

“J, i’m sorry,” Aron apologized, for more than just waking him up in the middle of the night.

“Hey, it’s ok, i’m not mad,” he cooed. Jorel tucked Aron into bed, stroking his blue hair. If only he could figure out what triggered this flashback.

Just then, Aron’s phone vibrated. Another text from Dylan.

_‘Aron? We down to meet up or what?”_

Jorel narrowed his eyes, it was 3 A.M in the fucking morning. After much thinking, he thought of the perfect plan to figure out what was really going on.

This needed to end, now.

~TBC


	15. Chapter 14: I miss the old you

Note: Sorry for the delay. Hope you like this.  
-Cye

 

 

      “I don’t understand,” Tony began, sitting across from Yuma. After Aron had moved in with Jorel, Tony turned to his only remaining close friend.

    “What don’t you understand?” the other asked, taking another sip of coffee.

   “How trusting Aron is, I mean look at this shit, they’re acting like they hadn’t dogged our boy.” Tony flashed his screen to Yuma, showing friendly and goofy tweets between the crew and Aron’s new twitter account. 

    “Tony, I think you need to let go,” Yuma sighed.

A blank expression struck the hispanic’s face. “Let _what_ go?”

   Yuma got up to set a few dishes in the sink. “You’re thinking Hollywood Undead took Aron away from you, nothin you can do, dude.”

Tony said nothing, looking at floor as Yuma continued.

“Seriously, grow up, he’s happy. Why do you need to be so jealous?” he finished, annoyed.

     Tony gripped his phone, imagining he could crush the device with a single hand.

_The real Aron wouldn’t be happy knowing he was sleeping with the enemy._

Tony grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“Where are you going?” Yuma asked.

“Getting in touch with an old friend,” Tony answered in his usual innocent fashion.

_Or maybe a few._

  


 

Aron looked out the window, watching the trees go by him. He sat in the passenger’s seat of Jorel’s Nissan.

“I don’t think this is gonna work,I don’t even know why you’re trying,” Aron muttered.

 

_I dated Dylan._

_My boyfriend’s best friend._

_This was like, ten years ago or something._

_Does that make it ok?_

_Do I pretend not to know this?_

_Or does Jorel already know somehow?_

_Why do I feel so guilty?_

 

Jorel let out a sigh. He still wanted to know what the last flashback was about, but Aron refused to let Jorel in.

“Babe, you need help. I love you, why wouldn’t I go out of my way for you?”

“Because I’ve only known you for like three months,” Aron answered.

Jorel slammed on the breaks. Aron nearly flew forward.

“What the fu-,”

“We’ve been together way more than three months. I stayed with you through everything you threw at me! Can you not act like a fuck boy for once?!”

 

_Through the drugs._

_Depression._

_Insults._

_Screaming._

_When you ran away._

_Or when you stopped talking to me for fucking months._

 

Jorel realized he lost his cool and immediately regretted it.

Aron felt the stress build up, yet said nothing. The guilt made the car ride unbearable for him.

Jorel sighed again, “i’m sorry, it’s just so frustrating...when...when it felt like we stood on top of the world back then, and now,” he couldn’t finish.

Aron and Jorel couldn’t look at each other for the rest of the the ride. Aron stopped the car upon arriving in front of the destination. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him before making his way through the double doors of the building the second they rolled up to the front of the address.

Jorel watched him leave for his appointment.

 

_I love you._

 

 

    Dylan had been sitting in his car for the past 30 minutes in the Del Taco parking lot. AC unit on full blast. He looked at his phone impatiently.

 

_Come on Aron._

_Hurry up._

_Fuck this, i'm going inside._

 

   Just as he opened his door and stepped out, another car recklessly parked into the space next to Dylan’s car. Dylan jumped, taking a leap back to avoid getting hit.

 

“The fuck-J?”

 

    He could recognize that Nissan anywhere.

 

          The Italian got out of his car without saying a word, slamming the car door as hard as he could behind him.

“Sorry, Aron is busy...in therapy,” he said with a hint of salt in his voice.  

       Dylan was caught off guard.

 

_He looks pissed._

_Not good._

_He read Aron’s text messages._

_Shit._

_I should’ve seen this coming._

 

    “Dude, I’m trying to ask Aron about something, he won’t text me back,” Dylan explained, trying his hardest not to give Jorel the wrong idea.

    “I fucking bet,” Jorel growled, gritting his teeth and folding his arms. “What do you want?”

“Ok, it’s not what it looks like,” he began.

“You think i’m that fuckin stupid to think you wouldn’t touch _my_ baby?” Jorel sneered.

Dylan narrowed his brows. “Oh, so now you're his fucking keeper now? Just listen.”

   “No, I don’t have to fucking listen. Why the fuck are you hitting him up?”

             Dylan sighed. “Maybe if you give me a minute to-”

Jorel clenched his fist. “If I even see you breathing the same air as Aron-”

“You’ll what? Huh? Are you going to try to fix him until he runs off to hide and shoot up drugs?”

Jorel was quite stunned and wide-eyed at that, only two other people knew just how badly Aron’s drug habits were.

“If I was you J, I would’ve given up on a lost cause like him long time ago,” Dylan continued. It was then that Jorel pushed him back against his car, feeling anger numb his judgement. Jorel’s fight or flight instinct kicked in to swing a hard punch, hitting Dylan square in the side of the face.

“Don’t fucking go there, you weren't the one there for him!”

Dylan got back on his feet quickly after being unexpectedly knocked down like that.

          The fight would have gone on if it weren't for a bystander taking out their phone, preparing to react and call the police.

“Hey J, guess what? I did care about Aron,” he began, rubbing the bruised side of his face as he opened his car door, not wanting to stick around if someone did call the cops.

Jorel rolled his eyes. “Yea, ok, whatever, douche.”

“No J, I did.” Dylan turned on the car and rolled down the windows.

 

_Fuck you dude, I was there for him before he loved you._

 

Dylan was feeling hurt for some reason.

“Dude, just get away from me, Stop texting my boyfriend before I tell your girlfriend.” Jorel warned, still tense.

Dylan was getting tired of Jorel constantly sticking up for Aron. Even when the other man was clearly in the wrong, Jorel was always there for his precious baby. 

“Ask Aron if he remembered how my dick taste.” Dylan mocked before driving off.

 

_Jorel didn't take that last remark very seriously._

_Whatever dude._

_He’s just trying to mess with me._

_He hates Aron._

_That's why he’s trying to make me feel suspicious._

_So i’ll fight with Aron._

_And we break up._

_That's what he wants._

 

Jorel got back in his own car and reached for his phone. The wallpaper was a more recent picture of Aron and him.

 

_You would never do anything to hurt me._

 

_~TBC_

 


End file.
